Born to Die: Memoirs of a Viking
by FirstBloodContest
Summary: First Blood Contest Entry: Eric reflects on his Viking days as it parallels his early life with Pam.


First Blood Contest

Title: Born to Die: Memoirs of a Viking

Writer status: 1st time offender

Beta: evenflo78

Characters: Eric and Pam plus a light amount of supporting characters

Disclaimer: I don't own the SVM or any of Charlaine Harris's characters, unless you count dreams. If so, Eric is all mine. (Just kidding Mrs. Harris!)

Warning: Rated M for strong sexuality and violence. Although violence and rape is not condoned in any way, they are featured so be forewarned.

The world was changing. People have always clustered together like rats on the prow of a sinking ship, but now it is said they do so by the hundreds of thousands. No, a million! It is said by the vampires that the dead are not even missed by humanity in these cities. It was to this end that I visited England for the first time since The Great Plague.

This new world was a sorry sight and my fangs ached to see the scar the humans called London. But opportunity called, and I am nothing if not opportunistic. I drudged through the sewage and prostitutes and lost my normally insatiable appetite. I could almost taste the soot on their skin that covered the city like a dismal blanket of lost ambition. I could smell the hopelessness of the poor and taste the greed on the rich.

My feet followed the night streets while I thought on my long life and the steps I'd taken to reach this dismal land. Imagine me, a predator, so enveloped in dissatisfactory prey that it would take an entire night to pick my meal. Gone, it would seem, were the nights of starvation because people were so few, far between and heavily missed when they were gone. Yet the more that people surrounded me, the lonelier and more alien I felt.

It was during this reminiscence that the air grew slightly less rotten and the shabby shacks of houses turned into a cluster of more tasteful buildings. There was hardly a soul on the streets, which was a welcome change from the former crowd of walking blood barrels. I desensitized my ears to the steady thrum of high pitched voices and shuffling animals from which I had just come and listened to the near emptiness ahead of me. A carriage was making its way home a few blocks to the north. A horse was stomping in an alley.

A woman was making slow and careful progress to some destination.

Intrigued, I rounded the corner and made my way in her direction. Her footsteps were light and careful, like a stalking cat, and I had to strain my ears to hear them from this distance. Her heartbeat, on the other hand, grew louder and faster the closer she got to her destination. Once I was close enough to see her, I hid behind a building to watch her progress.

There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman. With milk white skin and a carefully arranged mass of curls piled underneath her ridiculous hat, she would make any vampire's teeth run out. If it was only her beauty I saw, I would have immediately swooped down and drained every ounce of blood from the magnificent creature. But she was more than that. She was a huntress. Every step she took was carefully orchestrated. A man rounded the corner and she slinked into the shadows. Her darkness dilated eyes finally recognized the figure as the object of her stalking and she jumped out behind him as he passed.

The man fell down from fright. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't laugh as the woman looked to her suitor with wide eyes and feigned innocence of her silly stunt.

"Pamela! You've frightened me half to death!"

The vixen smirked and grabbed the young man's hand, dragging him down the street to a darkened spot where they could be alone. They spoke of their undying love and exchanged chaste kisses long into the night. When at last they were finished with their sentimental claptrap they vowed to return again to the same place tomorrow night and every night thereafter until the young man's return to Bristol.

I drew myself back into the darkness. I didn't feed that night. The future would prove nourishing enough.

Unlike many vampire, I saw scores of men fall by my hands long before I was turned. But you never forget your first kill. I was just a boy left behind when the men were going a-viking. Only women, children and old men were left to protect the village. My human life is as obscure to me as a book tossed into a fire. The memories are fragile and incomplete, yet I remember that day with the clarity that great events often impact on the psyche.

I shook my head to clear the fog the past was forming on my mind and brought myself back to the present. It had been two nights since I first heard the racing heartbeat of the blonde woman; three nights since I last fed. I spent those few days scouting the woman's house and making my plans. In another three night's time, I would have a companion.

It was almost full dark; the moon was full and high in the sky. It was a good night. The supernatural world would be busy. _I_ would be busy.

I had decided to claim the woman after she finished her nightly affair with the human male. Nobody would be looking for her until morning, and by then it would be too late. It took all my self control to wait. The hunger was growing inside me as I watched the moonlight dance on what little skin she exposed to the night.

It didn't take long for the male to leave. The blond woman stayed alone for a moment watching him go before collecting herself. Then she slipped off into the shadows.

I was waiting for her on the grounds of her family's home. Intricate pathways wound their way around flowers and shrubs, leading to an ornate fountain. I stood there, under the moon, with my hair unbound and wearing the clothes of an English nobleman. She thought to sneak past me. If I were human she would have succeeded. As I am not, her sole accomplishment was in witnessing the speed in which a vampire moves. In an instant, I was before her. She inhaled in surprise and her heart pounded with the intensity of war drums. She never shrank back. She never screamed or tried to flee. She appraised me as I appraised her—with a calculating look even as her skin trembled. I suppose I saw in her a reflection of myself. Under that mound of fabric and lace, there was a wildness aching to break free of the shackles of propriety and join the hunt. My fangs sprang down, her eyes opened wide in surprise, and I bit down into the fabric of her neck drinking the warm, wet life coursing through her veins.

Norse villages, if they could be called that, did not contain everything we needed to survive and grow. The climate was harsh and our supplies grew thinner and thinner each winter. We were forced to raid for supplies to feed our children. We were a hard working race from the time we could walk until the time we could no longer.

The night our village was raided we had a feast. It had been a poor year and we had very little to celebrate with, but celebrate we did. The warriors were still gone a-viking, so I carried my sword to defend our people if need be. I was just a boy, perhaps eight winters old. The women were cooking the feast as I sat on the far side of a distant hillside chewing my barley bread. I could see the smoke from the meal-fire rising in the crest of the hill. When I finished my bread, I started toward the feast.

The first thing I noticed when I reached the top of the hill was the gleam of sun on metal. I lifted my voice to shout a warning. Before I could even find the words, the sounds of panic made its way to the top of the hill where I stood. Women collected their screaming children while lightly armored warriors caused chaos in our peaceful town.

Our house was the largest. I knew the raiding warriors would make their way there first to plunder my father's gold. I ran as fast as my small feet would carry me with a battle cry on my lips and Odin's strength in my heart.

My newest child would be waking soon. Three nights ago, I dressed the blond woman in a fresh nightgown and placed her in her bed. Her family found her dead and buried her in a large London cemetery not far from the very place I first saw her. I went to ground close by so I could be there when she woke.

As darkness settled, I unearthed myself and started the process of unburying the blond woman. Many makers do not bother with this small kindness, but she would be calmer when she rose. I need not have rushed; the woman took an eternity to rise. I sat within the walls of the grave patiently waiting. She would be hungry in every sense. Vampires are no less than Berserkers on their first night with little ability to think and reason. I had refrained from fucking those filthy prostitutes so I could match the hunger she would have for me.

I shifted out of my idle state as I sensed the tiny movements of a waking vampire.

All at once, she was on me!

I flipped her around and pinned her to the bottom of her coffin. Her teeth railed out and she tried to bite my hands as I held her down. Her wild eyes scanned my body. I assumed she was trying to decide if she wanted to tear my limbs from my body or have her way with me. I laughed into the night sky and tore the fabric of her dress from her body with wild abandon. The moment my hands ceased restraining her small frame she pushed me against the grave's dirt wall. I felt the mad glee only a creator can feel. In that moment, I was a god and she was my child.

She shredded my clothes with a ferocity that amazed even me. This goddess was born to die! She would be my prodigy. I would have her every night for a century!

Her lips were on my chest, her tongue on my neck; she was everywhere at once. Her achingly swollen, virgin breasts shimmered in the moonlight begging to be touched. I captured their pink tips in my mouth and grazed them with a fang. She moaned in rage and surrender as I bit into the ripe flesh.

Her body was begging for something she'd never had; that I had no intention of giving to her just yet. I pushed her once more onto her back as she reached out for my thick, hard flesh. I slapped her hand away, leaned down and tasted the damp petals of her satin flesh. I kept her there on the edge for as long as her sanity allowed, then thrust myself deep into her well. Her response was fiery and cataclysmic. Ripples of ecstasy flooded through her in wave after wave of rapture. I pulled her lips to my neck and she bit down. I abandoned myself to her pleasure, bit into her flesh and was spent.

The hall that served as our home was well over 200 feet long. As father was clan chief, the building also served as a gathering place for the entire clan. Sunlight trickled through the broken door. The fire, which normally burned all day, was reduced to glowing embers. My eyes adjusted to the dark red glow of the hall as I stepped inside. My grandmother lay crumpled on the floor. Beside her was the body of a raiding warrior killed with the war hammer now slipping from my grandmother's dead fingers.

Inside the first room I came across, I found my younger sister crying in a corner. I bade her to hide behind some bedding and keep quiet until I returned. The next two rooms were empty.

I made my way to the far end of the hall. I heard a muffled yell come from Father and Mother's bedroom. Quietly, I positioned myself to see inside. A rage I had never felt before came across me as I spotted my mother, beaten and thrown onto her bed. A barbarian warrior had forced himself on her. His sword was to her throat as he jerked violently into her body. I sheathed my sword and pulled out a small dagger. With all the silence of a stalking beast, I crept behind the man, lifted my knife and slit his throat. Blood poured from his neck like water from a boiling pot. He stood for a long moment, an expression of shock forever etched into his weathered skin, and then crumpled at my feet.

As if saluting my victory, war horns sounded in the distance. I dragged my sobbing mother to the room where my sister hid, grabbing my grandmother's pilfered war hammer as I went. I placed the bloodied weapon in Mother's hands and made my way toward the battle. I could almost pity the next warrior who attempted to raid our home now that mother had a weapon.

I did not lay long in that London cemetery. My child's demand for pleasure would soon turn to a lust for blood. I listened intently to the night sounds and found the man I had heard earlier. Tonight would be the last night he worked the cemetery grounds. As my child rested, I brought her the man to feed on.

She cocked her head questioningly and ambled over to the trembling man. Circling him as a predator circles frightened prey, she seemed to find him physically inadequate until the wind picked up and brought with it the scent of his blood and fear. Her nostrils flared as she pressed her naked body to him. With the grace of one doing something they were born to do, she wrapped her lips around his neck and drank him dry.

For a first kill, it was exquisite.

But it was time to move, not admire our handiwork. As much as the young vampire would have liked to feed and fuck the entire night, we had to get as much distance from the place where she died as possible. I kicked the man into the grave even as she licked his last drop of blood from her lips. Pulling her into my arms, we took to the air, flying high to avoid being seen. Anyone looking up at us would think us a bat or a bird of the night. By the time the sun was of any threat London was far behind us. Every blade of grass on England was claimed by someone, but we managed to find an unoccupied land near Bedford to go to ground.

A primitive bellow tore from my throat as I stepped into the sunlight and saw my father charging to our rescue. The ships had come in time! Not even Valhalla could raise a force to reckon with the men that stood by his side.

They were mighty warriors indeed! Their long hair hung loose or in braids embellished with gold and silver trinkets. My father and his warriors wore the finest chain mail. The younger men of the village made do with leather padded coats. They had various styles of helmets made from leather or iron. Red and yellow shields surged forward like an unrelenting sea terrifying the invading tribe.

Unfortunately, that great tide carried the vermin to me. A motherless, stinking beast of a man, intending to run right through me, was stopped as I flung my sword at his side. He caught the blow with the flick of his axe. The beast had the strength of four or five of me, but I was faster. The sword was an extension of my very limbs as I pivoted, turned and thrust the sword at the tender flesh between the joints of his padded coat. My sword skewered under the arm in which he carried his battle axe. The arm drooped to his side like a useless rag, and I felt victory surge through my veins. Too soon, it would seem. Sweat clung to my skin as we circled each other under that bright summer sun. The man ran at me, screaming like a creature from _Hel_ with all of his bulk and speed, charging into me. I crumpled under the enormous weight of his shield. He was on top of me in the mud, pummeling me with the only weapon available to him—his massive shield. My vision began to go black. White lights flashed before my eyes. A frantic prayer was on my lips as I hacked blindly with the dagger in my left hand.

And then it was over. The stinking beast moved no longer. Perhaps my small dagger blindly found a lethal spot. Perhaps Odin took pity on me and stopped my opponent's heart. I lay there in a pool of blood and mud without the strength to lift this enormous burden of dead flesh and weapons off of me. If a lack of oxygen didn't kill me, surly his stench would. I would die here in the mud with this half-oxen creature on top of me.

Those were my last thoughts before I slipped into a dark, dreamless slumber.

"You expect to be called _what?"_

My child awoke the next night confused; thirsty for blood, sex and knowledge. Instead of waiting for her to rise, I liberated some traveling clothes for her to wear on our journey from a dress shop near our resting spot. The clothing was less frilly and more practical than what she was accustomed to. She didn't comment or complain. She just dressed and began incessantly questioning me the moment her body was thoroughly fed.

"I am your Master. You may address me as such." I explained to her, not for the first time.

"You are no such thing!"

I was told English women were agreeable, but I was sorely mistaken. I willed patience into my dead soul. "I am your master. I have made you. You belong to me, Pam."

The young vampires voice rose to a fevered shriek, "What did you call me?"

"Pam." My voice sounded cold, even to my own ears. Inside, however, I was taking great pleasure in irritating the insubordinate wretch.

"My name is _not_ Pam. It is _Pamela_."

"Perhaps you will grow to like it."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Oh, indeed. Right about the time I start calling you Master."

"It is time to leave." I threw her over my shoulder like a sack of barley and took to the air. Pam, it would seem, knew when to pick her battles. She accepted her treatment without a hint of fang. I know I should have been happy with that arrangement, but I somehow felt she was bidding her time. Perhaps I should make sure she didn't go to ground with any pointed wooden objects. No, it would make no difference. She would never wake before me.

There is a small coal mining town in County Durham, England. It goes by the ominous name of Ravenscroft*. It was in this place we decided to settle—as much as vampires _could_ settle. There was an unfortunate increase in coal mining fatalities while Pam learned to control her hunger, but other than that we went relatively unnoticed. For a time.

"Eric…"

"_Master_ Eric," I interrupted.

"Yes. That is what I said. How long can we live here before somebody discovers our difference?"

I purchased a house under the name Mr. Swynford De Beaufort. It was to be a wedding present to my adoring wife, Pam Swynford De Beaufort. I'm not sure which my child disliked more, her new name or the guise of being my wife. Don't get me wrong, we had a genuine affinity for each other. Pam was my favorite child, and she had a deep respect for my abilities. She seemed to genuinely enjoy being a vampire and I enjoyed her company. But we were not human. We were, in many ways, too primitive to love. Life is a constant game of cat and mouse, when you are vampire. The trick was never staying long enough in one place and becoming the mouse.

Pam believed the house to be far enough away from town that neighbors wouldn't be knocking on the door to borrow human food supplies. There was no farm to keep, so I became an eccentric writer who stayed in his house all day long. This was Pam's idea, in fact. She said she knew a man called Dickens in London who wandered the streets of London taking in the people and sites for inspiration. I enacted this practice immediately as an excuse to browse for food.

"They will discover our difference eventually. Humans can tell we are wrong after any amount of time. There is a man called Vlad Țepeș who has lived in his castle for centuries, though the entire area fears him. But he is an exception. Those who flaunt their strangeness usually end up meeting their final death or worse. The Countess Báthory was imprisoned four years before she was finally staked."

"How will we know when to move?"

"You will learn to study the humans. You will know when they are uneasy in your presence. You will smell their fear, their arousal, their joy or anger when you approach. You will watch for every little indication of their mood—a heightened heartbeat, a nervous tap, a tug on their ear. They will clean their spectacles, fix their clothes and shuffle their feet when they are uneasy. They will take up more room when they are comfortable; touch their bodies when aroused; clench their jaws when angry. You will study and you will learn."

Pam nodded, a quick jerk of her head. She had no doubt in my words. No further questions. She trusted my judgment and would make me proud.

"When you say it is time to go, we will go," I announced after a moment's thought.

"When _I _say?"

"Yes."

"What if it is too late? What if I haven't learned fast enough?"

"Then I will be long gone and you will be burned alive by an angry mob while you sleep."

It was Pam's night to provide dinner and entertainment. She proved to be a creative child, reveling in every vampyric joy her new existence had to offer. The night was bright with stars; the air clean and fresh. She sat on a bench in town watching the passersby. Each night Pam hunted has been similar. She would find a man to her liking, we would feed, fuck, glamour, repeat. I was bored with the routine, though hardly any time had passed since we've moved to Ravenscroft.

I stood in the shadows watching Pam. I kept a critical eye on my student, but my senses were tuned to the night. I didn't want her to know I watched her too closely. She needed space to grow and blossom into the vampire I know she would become.

A lone woman passed by Pam's perch. She had fire red hair that hung down in curls beneath her green bonnet. Her dress was the same vivid shade of green and trimmed with red, embroidered roses. She was a sad, lonely woman. Misery hung heavily on her delicate shoulders. Her full, pink lips were turned into a small pout.

"Pardon me." called Pam. "Is something the matter?"

The woman looked up. Her eyes, the same shade as her dress and bonnet, were hollow and red-rimmed. She seemed to almost look through Pam, shook herself and softly answered, "Oh, no. It is nothing. Sorry to have troubled you."

Pam bustled over with the righteousness of a proper woman helping someone in need. "It's no trouble at all. Come. Sit." The woman was led from her miserable plodding like cattle. She had no will to make her own way. "My name is Pam Swynford De Beaufort." The name stuck in her throat like sand, and I chuckled in my darkened corner. Pam's head whipped up like an injured cat whose tail had just been stepped upon and glared into my darkened ally. I chucked again and despite my curiosity, stepped back into the night. I would return home and await Pam's return.

I awoke with the feeling of being underwater. My head swam unpleasantly in my skull. My head throbbed an unhappy rhythm. I blinked twice, retched, and closed my eyes again until everything stopped spinning. There was a murmur; voices perhaps, but all had gone silent when I awoke.

I managed to pull myself into a sitting position. Where was I? My thoughts churned slowly through my head until I remembered the terrible things I had witnessed on that once beautiful feast day. My eyes flew open, and I expected to see barbarians surrounding me. Instead it was my father's proud face peering back at me.

The fire was burning bright in my father's hall. Each licking flame was like a war hammer to my skull as it danced before my eyes. My heart beat faster again thinking of all I had seen.

"Mother?"

"She is safe son."

I sighed in relief. "Your gold?"

"The invaders ran when they saw my men coming. Many of them escaped with their plunder, but we know where to find them." My father's lip raised half to snarl, half to smirk. "Those who didn't escape did not live to steal from us again. I can thank you for two of those kills I hear."

He thought to cheer me with his praise, but my stomach tightened and I almost heaved again. This time it was not the pain or my foggy thoughts. The weight in my stomach was the knowledge that men had come, desecrated our village and walked away with their lives and our gold.

"Your people?"

Father's face went blank, but a cold gleam came to his eyes. "Most lived."

"I want to be there when you burn their village to the ground."

"No, my son."

"No!" I shouted, though it started everything spinning again. "I deserve to go!"

"You may join the war band when we make those barbarians pay with their lives, but we will not burn their village to the ground. Their woman and children do not deserve the heartache ours have suffered today." Father rose and left my bed, his back straight and head high.

It was then that I became a man in every way but name. I bowed my head humbly, embarrassed by my outburst. He was right of course. I vowed to one day match my father as a leader, father and man.

"My child." I greeted Pam with a simple nod as she entered our nest. My shepherdess was leading the fiery haired woman through the front door by a single outstretched hand.

Many vampires revel in the hunt; I was no exception. But chasing down a human like a stray deer held no interest for me, unless perchance it was for revenge. No! Any vampire worth his fangs could chase down a human and drain them dry. We were more powerful. What sport is there in running down weaker game? The hunt to me was in seducing my prey. I would use my many talents to make these creatures desire me; to make their hormones wash through their quickly beating hearts before it burst through their arteries and into my flesh. They would do it all against their better judgment, but I was no thief! I didn't steal lives and blood but exchanged them for moments of pleasure. Tonight my child would learn the same. She would sharpen her cunning instead of her fangs on this sorrowful woman's flesh. My child would thrive, and this woman would find peace.

"My dear friend Abigale is coming to join us for tea."

"Of course," I replied. I was surprised to find that Pam had this _tea_ in the house along with all the materials to make it. I don't know the taste of this drink, but people have always experimented with leaves and water. I delved back into my long memory and tried to recall the taste of any drink but blood.

The _öl_ vats surrounded the fire as the battle chiefs conferred. The sweet heather and barley ale would fuel us for battle. Though just a child by anyone's standards, I had earned the right to accompany the war band. I did my best to make sense of the great men's plans. It wasn't the first time I had listened in on these proceedings, it was just the first I'd been included. It was possible I was the youngest in our clan's history to have a place in such a gathering.

"We leave at dawn tomorrow."

There were grunts of agreement while the men stood and began their preparations for the morning. Since I had no preparations to make, I returned to my father's hall to sharpen my weapon. People had already begun to gather. Most of the village would eat together tonight. There would be drinking and dancing in order to send the warriors off properly. I made my way to my sleeping area and ran a whetstone across my blade.

Father must have come in after me. He sat down beside me as I busied myself with my task. "That sword will be too small to cut a rabbit if you sharpen it so often."

"I would have a sharp sword to avenge my people." The light of the fire caught the edges of my sword. _It will glow like this in battle,_ I thought to myself.

"Ah, but a village doesn't stand on swords. Not even the sharpest of them."

I lifted my head to meet my father's eyes. His face was caught in a small smile, but his eyes were sharp and serious. "What does a village stand on, father?"

"It stands on the back of its people, my son. From the tiniest infant to the oldest skald and everyone in between, we hold it up and none more than any other. Keep your sword sharp, my son, and avenge our people. But you have been sharpening that sword for days when your mind would be better set to sharpening your skills."

He was right of course. I had been brooding for days and neglecting my work. I set my sword upon my bed and stood. "Come father. Let us celebrate with our people."

The next morning was damp. The men clustered together wrapping themselves in blood red cloaks lined with animal fur. I wore a leather helmet upon my head. I was too small for the iron helmet a clan chief's son would normally wear. I kissed the amulet around my neck and sent up a silent prayer to Odin that any men who fell today would make their way to His hall in Valhalla.

We followed the path our scouts had tracked. In two days time we would have our revenge.

I sat in a large cushioned chair in front of the fire ridiculously pretending to drink this bland smelling drink while Pam's red haired woman explained the woes of her life.

"They died two years ago, now. I have no other family, and I can't afford to keep my house."

"You poor thing, I can't imagine your pain." Pam was a convincing actress.

The woman's voice fell to hardly above a whisper. "Some days I feel as though I died with them."

Pam clasped the woman's hands in hers and brought them to the woman's bosom resting her own hands on the woman's beating heart. She managed a whisper that was soothing and seductive. "But you are very much alive."

The woman's mouth parted in surprise and her heart beat faster. Pam ran her finger down the lines of her cheek. "You are so young. So beautiful. You have your life ahead of you."

"I … I just…"

Pam placed her finger against the woman's lips. "Shh…" she soothed as she reached up and began removing the pins from the woman's hair. "You can stay here as long as you need to. Pay no mind to the bank. We'll take care of you," she crooned. All the while she unbound the woman's fiery red curls, running the glowing strands against her fingertips.

"But…"

"It's no bother."

The woman eyes closed and she breathed heavily.

"Come. Let's set you up in the spare room. I'll fix you with something to sleep in."

Clasping the woman's hand, Pam led her toward the stairs.

"Are you coming?" Pam purred in my direction.

"I wouldn't miss it."

I leaned against the bedroom doorframe and continued to watch Pam work her magic.

"Let's get you out of this and into something more comfortable." Pam turned the woman around and began slowly working at the trapping securing the woman's dress. She lightly brushed her fingers up her slender figure feeling for each tie and clasp.

By the time Pam had worked the woman's clothes off of her, she was a shivering mess of emotions desperately hoping someone would help her out of her troubles. She stood there beautiful and naked; her red hair unbound and arms modestly covering her breasts. Pam's fingers trailed lines across her the curves of her waist.

"Your hands are so cold!"

Pam walked over to the bedroom's fire and placed another log on its flame's. Her hands hovered there a moment, warming, and she returned to the woman's side.

"Abigale …" She whispered. The woman stood stone still like a deer in the night. Pam circled her like she had the man in the cemetery her first night. I expected her to sink her teeth into the woman then and there she was so eager, but she just continued her predatory circlet.

"Surely I have never seen a more beautiful woman."

The woman blushed beneath Pam's unblinking stare. Her eyes followed Pam as she continued her slow, seductive stroll around the woman. Pam halted in front of her and gently pulled the woman's arms to her side freeing her breasts. The woman gasped as Pam cupped her breast in her hand and ran her thumb over its soft pink nipple. Pam's nose flared as the woman's essence pooled between her naked thighs.

Running her tongue over her teeth, Pam willed her fangs not to descend. I was proud to see the enormous amount of willpower my protégé showed. I stood behind Pam and began undressing her. When I finished my task she stepped out of the mound of fabric. Pam and her red haired beauty's eyes never left each other. It was, perhaps, the first time in my long history that I was ignored by two beautiful, naked women. I sought to remedy that.

I took a hand of each female and led them to the bed. They came without hesitation as if in a trance. Pam, I suppose was caught up in her new lust of the female form. The human desperately wanted an escape from her life. She required no glamour, no push—just the gentle persuasion a sympathetic shoulder.

I sat them down on the bed and began to slowly undress in front of them. The redhead reached out as I removed my shirt and placed her warm fingertip on my chest. I moved on to my pants, and she gasped as I stood in front of her in full glory. Pam's lips twitched into a smirk. Was it pride in her master that made her lips turn so? Was she laughing at my confidence? I would punish her for that smirk.

I eased both females onto the bed. The redhead's eyes hadn't once returned to Pam and she was seething. She pulled the woman to her and kissed her deeply. The woman returned the kiss with wild abandon. I threw my head back and laughed at Pam's desperate attempt to win the woman's affection. Didn't she know that no woman would turn from me to anyone else? At the sound of my laugh, the woman pulled her head from Pam and looked to me with wide, questioning eyes. I gave her a look that would devastate the coldest heart and she moaned from the heat of it. I loomed above them like an avenging angel and they lay before me powerless. I straddled the red haired woman and bent down to kiss her neck. Her toes curled and back arched with need.

Pam sat up and watched, writhing in desperation. Her fangs dropped once as lust momentarily overtook her senses. I kissed the woman with passion to allow Pam time to collect herself. When I broke off the kiss, she had retracted them once more.

I allowed Pam access to the woman once again. In a fever, she took her. Her hands and lips were everywhere; touching, probing. She charted her body like a map, discovering each new valley previously unexplored. She would love her own sex like I never had and the prospect of teaching her new things excited me.

Pam's tongue danced down the woman's navel, her fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. So caught up in her explorations, she didn't notice me slip behind her. The moment her tongue touched the woman's sweet folds, I thrust myself into her. She called me her master and begged me not to stop as she lost herself in my rhythm and the woman's moist heat. Pam and the woman climaxed in simultaneous waves of rapture, but I was not finished with them…

Pam kept her woman alive somehow. She nearly turned her twice, but in the end the woman recovered fully human. For my part, I mostly left them alone. They seemed happy together and it worried me. Pam suffered from the ailment most children suffer from, the delusion of invincibility. I could feel the flow of humanity turning against us. The people of Ravenscroft were weary of us, a state not helped by Pam's infatuation with this red haired woman. If she wasn't careful, she would be swept away in the tide.

I sat wondering whether Pam would be know when it was time to leave while Pam and I warmed ourselves in front of the fire.

"You know she isn't a pet."

"Like hell she isn't," Pam replied as she embroidered a piece of green fabric.

"What do you intend to do with her?"

"I intend to eat her and fuck her."

"I was thinking a little more long term."

Pam looked up from her sewing and studied my face. "There is trouble."

I kept my face blank. It was for her to acknowledge trouble, not for me to lead her there. "I was merely wondering how long I had to put up with the two of you. Do you love her?"

Pam's eyebrows flew up in stunned surprise before she arranged her expression into its more customary mask of comical disdain. "I don't _love_ her." She spat the word out as if it would burn her.

"Good."

"Yes. Fabulous. Are you finished?"

"Because vampires cannot _love_." I felt a long buried twinge of bitterness rise from the pit of my useless stomach and into my dead heart. I stomped on the feeling like embers of a dying flame.

"Yes. I hear you."

"Good. We will get rid of her tomorrow tonight."

"So soon?" Pam dropped her cloth. The green fabric fell to the floor revealing a single red rose. I swept the cloth in my fingers and crushed it into my fist.

"Yes."

The smoke of the invaders village wisped through the air like spider's threads. We would reach the center hall by dark. We stood at the edge of the forest discussing the best way to attack. Most of the men wanted to charge into the village with swords raised high, but my father eventually won out. We would snake around the back of the hall and take it by stealth. It was a good plan that would lead to a quick end and less bloodshed. It would have worked, as well, if not for the dogs.

I arose early to the screams of the red haired woman. Trouble had been brewing for days but I hadn't left town like I promised Pam I would. I couldn't leave her yet. I told myself day after day there was still time, but apparently time had run out.

Pam and I went to ground beneath a small shed behind our house. A small door was hidden underneath a pile of straw and rocks that led to a rough basement Pam and I had dug out. I woke slowly and sluggishly. It was not full dark. Pam, beside me, was stiff as a corpse.

Lifting the small hatch, a dreary dull glow illuminated our small room. The sky through the windows was nearly black as night and lightening flashed through the air in angry bursts. Rain halfheartedly trickled down. The woman screamed once more. I shook my head to clear the daytime stupor from my brain and took stock of the situation. Creeping from my hole, I peered out of the dirty window and saw twelve men with torches surrounding the house. Pam's woman had locked herself inside.

The men cursed the woman one hundred different ways. "Leave the house or die in the flames that will follow you to Hell!"

"What have I done to deserve this punishment?" She cried out.

"We will not neighbor the devil's whore! Leave our town at once!"

The woman screamed and cried in fear and rage. She cursed the men, cursed God and she cursed the fate that brought her to this day.

I went back into the hole and threw Pam over my shoulder. _I should leave now._ I thought to myself. _ I should leave the poor wretch to her suffering, cover Pam and myself and leave for the next town. _The sun was almost down. Its weak light would barely sunburn me.

The woman shrieked again.

The smell of smoke filled my nostrils. The men had set my house on fire with the woman inside of it. I dropped Pam on the ground and stepped out of the shed. I told her she would have to take care of herself when the time came. Clouds covered the sky, but I could feel somewhere deep in my bones that the sun was dipping below the horizon.

"There is the monster!" The men held up crosses and recited lines from the book of the White Christ. Whether these humans knew I was vampire or just considered us evil humans, I never learned, but they like many others thought the words of their God would stop me. These words, of course, did not. This startled them but they just increased the recitations with vigor.

Twelve men should be no match for me, even before full dark. The real challenge was removing a woman from a burning building. Vampires, in general, avoid burning buildings like fanatical torch-wielding Christians avoid conversations with their conscience.

Since their words didn't stop me, the men decided to take a more proactive approach. One man threw his torch at me, but I dodged it easily and continued my slow progress toward the group, looking for weaknesses and developing a plan. Many of the men were armed with hunting rifles or pistols. If I entered the house to retrieve the woman, they would have me surrounded. I would have to kill them first.

With vampyric speed, I snapped the neck of one man and was behind another before his body hit the ground. I made quick work of him as bullets flew in every direction by terrified and confused men.

A screech like a dying hound of hell raked the air. I was overcome with the feeling of dread as a fresh wave of smoke and hay filled the air. The shed had been set aflame by the torch I had dodged. Pam was caught inside its burning walls. There was little I could do to save her with ten men trying to kill me, so I reminded myself that I promised not to save her and set my mind to killing the humans.

Fire burst through a shattered window. The red haired woman was screaming again, this time begging for help in sad, sickly coughs. I killed three more men in the confusion, clearing the back of the house. I flew to the second story and slipped inside a window. I followed the mewling sounds of the tormented woman to the bottom floor.

She lay on the floor, gasping for air. The flames were worse there, in the dining room. The heat singed my dry skin, threatening to set me alight. I growled in frustration, picked up the woman and burst through the nearest window. A man yelled in surprised, falling to the wet grass. The rest of the intruders showered us with a fresh wash of bullets.

A crashing boom rent the air. Pam emerged from the rubble of the shed, her clothes in tattered shambles. Soot clung to her hair. Her skin was black and burnt. Men screamed at the sight of her, dropping their weapons. Others fired in fear and with no accuracy. Pam's fangs glistened in the dim moonlight. In the blink of an eye, she drained an attacker.

I let her clean up the mess. She made quick work of the vengeful men.

There were no sounds of celebration coming from the hall. No babies cried. No women laughed. The enemy village was an odd, haunting place. The quiet murmur of voices came in a steady drone from the main hall.

Father gave the signal to kick open the door of the hall. It burst forth with a thundering boom. Instantly women and children huddled against the walls. Men surged forward with or without weapons. The throbbing mass, caught unaware, was easily overcome. The enemy chieftain was brought before my father. One of our warriors made to make the proud jarl kneel, but a gruff word from my father stopped him in his tracks.

"What right have you to come into our hall like this?" spat the jarl.

"What right have your men coming into _my_ hall raping my wife and killing old men and children?" my father demanded.

The color drained from the jarl's face. He muttered oaths beneath his breath cursing the men of his clan. "You will not find those men amongst us, but as their king I will pay their blood debt."

This pronouncement brought whispers from all who were gathered in the hall.

"We have nothing to pay them with!" a woman shouted.

I looked around the hall. Many of the villagers were lean and hungry looking. The women held sickly, scrawny infants to their breast. There were few men and their muscles stood out stiffly against tightly stretched skin. My father, too, saw this. He raised his hand for silence.

"Where are the men who stole gold and lives from my people?"

The proud jarl shook his head sadly. "Had we known what they did we would have kept them here to pay the blood debt for their crimes. We have banished them."

My father ran his hand through his beard. "What have they done to you to deserve banishment?"

Once more the proud jarl shook his head. "They stole food from their own people. They defied their jarl and refused to hunt. Come. Sit with us and share our _öl. ____We will settle this like honorable men."_

___Father joined the jarl in drink. Together they toasted our uneasy warriors and the people of the village. The poor, proud and ruined jarl wept as he told us of his recent hardships and the betrayal of his men. _

_"__The barley never grew this season. The animals avoid our barren land like a plague and the people suffer. One of our warriors, a man named _Frømund, said he would lead a raid. I wouldn't offer him boats to raid the southern lands. It was too late in the season to go a-viking. By the time they reached the southern lands, the waters would be too rough for the return journey. We would be without the men for too many seasons. There would be no one to hunt.

"Frømund disagreed, of course. I told him that he and whoever joined him would not be welcome back. He laughed and said that our village held sure death and only a fool would stay here to die. But it wasn't as bad as that. We had rations enough to make it through a lean winter. These Frømund stole in the night. Now we have little food to last the winter."

Father sat in silence a moment, his chin pensively resting on his hand. "We will not demand the blood price from you," my father announced.

I winced. Surely the jarl would take it as an affront against his pride. The jarl did not anger, however. He just shook his head once more. "This cannot be done. The men were mine to command. It was my job to lead them and I have failed. The crime is on my hands."

Father stood and paced inside the hall. "I will not take the food from the mouths of women and children." He stopped his pacing mid stride. "How many live here?"

The jarl regarded my father for a moment. "There are less than fifty of us now."

"Very well. You will follow us to our home. You will work off your blood debt there."

The jarl stiffened. "I will not be made a slave."

"No. You will not. Once the debt is paid, any who would like to return here may. Those who would like to stay can do so. All who are free are free in my hall."

The haunted eyes of the villagers began to take on life. They were wary, still, but they were hopeful.

Our village grew by fifty people that day.

I asked my father on the walk back how he could have such compassion when he still had a thirst for revenge.

"A strong man puts aside his emotion and leads. He knows when to negotiate, when to battle and when to flee."

When Pam returned to my side, the battle lust had lifted and she was sane once more. Flames poured from our house like water. Red tears streamed from her face as she looked to the battered, dying woman at my feet. The red haired woman choked on a last painful gulp of air, shuddered and was still.

Pam buried her that night at her family's cemetery. I stood watching on as Pam covered the grave with dirt. Before we left the cemetery, I handed Pam a crumpled, green piece of cloth. Wiping the tears from her face, she tucked the fabric into her dress and never spoke of it again.

I swallowed my anger, my fear, my reservations and led my child to a New World.

*Ravenscroft, Durham is a fictional town not to be confused with the real town of Ravenscroft in Cheshire.


End file.
